Aslan's Tempest
by Phoenix-Talon
Summary: When Susan lost her family, she thought her life was over. Little did she know, that Aslan had a task for her--a task that would lead her on the greatest adventure of her life since her Narnian rule.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This story is a companion story to my brother's fanfic, "Hearts of Stone." In this, I'm taking elements from BOTH the book and the movie. Don't get pissy with me because I'm not being strictly canon. I love the Narnia series with all my heart and have probably read them way more often than you have, if there's a discrepancy, it was intentional. I'm sticking mostly to the books; I'm only taking out of the movies the elements I like and nothing else. Oh, and for obvious reasons this will have a very Christian feel. If you whine about that then you really shouldn't be on this fandom. :-D**

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I always fell for the wrong people.

Didn't matter the timing, the age, any of that rot, no matter who it was, they always managed to break my heart. I've been the victim of a perpetual broken heart all my life.

I drummed my fingers on my makeup table, contemplating this. I refused to let myself be vulnerable any longer. Love became my plaything, something merely to amuse. I didn't let it touch me, and it didn't hurt me.

Almost automatically, I reached for a tube of lipstick. I methodically applied it, smiling at the marked improvement. Sighing I got up, slipping on a dark red dress. The party would begin in an hour, and I'd spent fifteen minutes just staring into space. I carefully fixed my hair, applied a little rouge to my cheeks, and stood. I noticed a small blemish near the corner of my mouth and hurriedly concealed it with more makeup.

There was a knock at the door. I scooted as quickly as I could and answered, smiling with delight. It was Phillip.

Phillip Templeton had been escorting me for three weeks now. He was tall with a narrow nose and light brown hair. I'd never had a limit of escorts, but Phil pleased me immensely. He was charming without being annoying, and masterful without being chauvinistic.

"Hello, Phil," I sang out, sashaying in a circle. "Do you like my dress?"

He grinned. "Hello, Susie. You look ravishing, as always."

I giggled but withheld the automatic grimace of calling me 'Susie.' I hated the nickname.

"Tilly ought to be here soon," I commented gaily, referencing a friend of mine. "And then we'll get going."

"You're bringing Tilly?" Phil wrinkled.

I went to him kissing his cheek. "She's a dear friend of mine. Be nice," I scolded.

He caught my chin and kissed me hard. "You know I'd do anything for you, Susie," He said huskily.

I giggled again but backed up. "Would you like a drink?" I offered.

His pale blue eyes gleamed at the request. "Yes, of course."

I led him into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of champagne from the little cabinet. I flipped on the wireless, hoping for some jazz to play. Phillip uncorked the bottle and poured a glass.

I grimaced. "Ugh, it's the news," I sighed. The news was dreadfully dull. I took a proffered glass from Phillip and sipped.

"Unfortunately, there were no survivors. Our hearts go out to the families who lost loved ones…" The radio announcer reported.

"Did you hear about that?" Phillip asked me. "Horrible train accident. Some kind of weird malfunction. No survivors."

I frowned. "I didn't. I hardly listen to the news, they're so dull and depressing. I'd rather listen to something gay and happy." I switched off the wireless.

I heard another knock at the door.

"That must be Tilly!" I announced. I pecked Phillip on the cheek. "Be right back." I swept into the living room and opened the door, expecting to see Tilly's lively face.

But it wasn't Tilly. I gasped in surprise. "Jack!" I said happily embracing him. "What a lovely surprise!"

Jack Lewis was an old family friend of ours'. He was as close as an uncle to me, though I'd always thought Lucy was his especial favorite. But I hadn't the foggiest idea of what he was doing here. I was living in London, not Finchley, where the rest of my family was.

"Hello, Susan," Jack said gravely. My face fell. Jack was a merry soul with an incredibly dry wit; whatever was making him so serious could not be good.

"I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a hurry," I said ushering him in. "Can I get you something to drink?"

Jack shook his head. "I need to talk to you, Susan," He said quietly. "Have a seat."

My stomach fluttered nervously. I sat. "What is it? What's wrong?" I asked gently.

For two long moments, Jack said nothing. Then he took a deep breath. "Susan—I don't know how to tell you this, and I wish to God I didn't have to—but—but I must. Did…did you hear about that train accident?"

I nodded and my insides turned to ice.

Jack looked me in the eye and to my shock his eyes filled with tears. "Your family—your parents, Peter, Lucy, Edmund, your cousin Eustace and his girlfriend Jill Pole—I'm afraid they were involved in that accident."

I was silent.

"Eustace and Jill were going to meet with your brothers and sister…and your mother and father were on the same line, heading to Bristol. And—and that was one of the lines involved in the railway accident."

I stared at him, not fully comprehending. The radio announcer's voice rang in my ears. No survivors…

"Are…are they all right?" I whispered.

Jack's voice broke. "Oh, Susan," He said, tears streaming down his aged cheeks. "Susan…your family's gone…I'm so, so sorry."

At first I felt nothing. I heard nothing. I didn't even see Jack anymore. I felt as though I didn't exist any longer. I heard Jack's voice, far away and distant, asking me to look at him, begging me to talk to him. Then it hit me.

A great open terrible maw of loneliness and misery overcame me. I was engulfed in nothing but pain, the horrible awful pain that I would never see my family again. A black chasm, a terrible tunnel of loneliness and abandonment overcame me and I felt my mouth open. I think I was screaming.

XXXXX

Jack was trying to hold Susan, for fear that she'd hurt herself. She was screaming, her pain breaking Jack's heart as she clawed at him.

"Who the bloody hell are you? What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" An unfamiliar young man came from the kitchen and glared at Jack.

"Shut up!" Jack snarled. "She just lost her family…they were in the railway accident…" Jack had heard from Susan's mother that she'd had many boyfriends. Helen had worried about it but Alberta, the Pevensie's aunt had always reassured her.

"It's perfectly normal for a young pretty girl like Susan to have as much fun as possible. Healthy too! Really. It's psychological…" Jack had always disagreed strongly in their handling of Susan, but had stayed silent. It wasn't his place to interfere.

"Wha…?" The boy stared at him stupidly, his mouth hanging out. "She can't go to the party, then?" Jack lost his patience and his temper.

"Get out!" He snarled. "You're doing no good here. Get _out_ I say!" He let go of Susan for a moment to hurl the idiot out of the flat but when he slammed the door and locked it Susan had disappeared.

"Su?" He called out. "Susan?"

He heard her screams again and then the shatter of glass. He ran towards the sound. "Susan, what are you doing?"

She was in her bedroom. No, she was _destroying_ her room. The beautiful vanity set was in pieces on the floor, her mirror cracked and broken. She was tearing up her pillows, flinging vases and pictures.

"Susan, stop!" Jack cried. "You're going to hurt yourself! Stop!" He grabbed for her. She fought like a wild animal, screaming and sobbing. Jack kept a tight hold on her. She stopped thrashing and wept.

"Shh, shh," Jack whispered to his goddaughter. "It'll be all right, Su. It'll be all right."

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I lay in bed. My door was open a crack, and I heard Jack talking on the phone. He sounded very tired.

"No, Alberta, she can't see anyone right now…a psychiatrist would only make things worse. I know you're her only family left, but it's her decision, and she doesn't want to see anyone right now. I don't know if she'll be at the funeral, she hasn't left her bedroom in three days."

I shivered. I could never go to that funeral. I couldn't. I couldn't replace my memories of my family with cold wax corpses. I'd die.

Jack hadn't left. He'd kept Phillip away and brought me food every few hours. He'd cleaned up the shattered remains of my vanity set and mirror and tried to talking to me.

I couldn't hide in my bedroom forever.

The door opened and Jack walked in. I opened my eyes and looked at him. He sat on a stood next to my bedside.

"I've made some tea, love. Do you want some?" He offered me a steaming mug.

I licked my dry lips and nodded. I took the mug and sipped it slowly. I smiled. Jack had remembered I like my tea with an unholy amount of cream.

"Susan, do you want to talk about it?" Jack asked quietly. I shut my eyes tightly and shook my head.

"Su, love, I know how you feel. I know how grief feels. I could help you."

I shook my head harder.

Jack sighed. "I just got off the phone with your Aunt Alberta."

I opened my mouth. "How is she?" My voice was cracked and hoarse. I took another gulp of hot tea.

"She's worried about you. She thinks the family should be together during this time. This is one of the rare moments I agree with her, Su. Do you want to stay with her?"

I didn't say anything but Jack could see the refusal in my expression.

"Do you want to wait until the funeral to see her and your uncle?"

"I'm not going to the funeral," I whispered.

Jack started to reply but then thought against it. We sat quietly until I finally spoke again.

"Do you think I'm being punished?" My eyes filled with tears.

"Susan, no!" Jack looked horrified. "Of course not! Susan—"

"I want to go outside," I said suddenly and sat up. Jack bit his lip.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea—" He started to say.

"I'm not an invalid," I snapped at him. He looked hurt. Whatever my circumstances, I shouldn't take it out on Jack.

"I'm sorry, Jack," I said softly. "I just want to be alone for a little while."

Jack nodded. "I'm staying at an inn nearby. Please wire me if you need anything Su. I'll be back to check on you tomorrow, love."

I nodded. I barely heard the door snap quietly shut. I took a shuddery breath and tried to stand. My legs wobbled. I grabbed random articles of clothing and shoved them on. I noticed it was raining lightly, and I took my white raincoat and slipped it on. I glanced at myself in the shattered remains of my mirror. I looked dreadful—my hair was unkempt and unwashed, my eyes were red and bloodshot with dark circles beneath them. It didn't seem long ago when the old me would've shrieked at such an appearance. Why bother caring anymore? I had nothing anymore.

I stepped outside and felt the rain pour across me. Welcome to London. I started walking aimlessly, unsure of where I'd go. Would I get a drink at some abandoned pub? Would I go see Phillip? I snorted, that certainly was out of the question. I couldn't stand to see anyone, let alone him.

My pace quickened with the rain. My face was wet—with tears or with rain?

"Why?" I whispered. "Why did you do this?"

No one answered.

"Why did you have to punish them?" I begged. "Couldn't it have been me? I was the one who deserved it!"

The street was strangely empty as I began to sob once again.

"Where?" I shrieked, my knees giving out and hitting the mud=splattered sidewalk. "WHERE ARE YOU, ASLAN?"

And then I saw it in the store window. The wardrobe.


	2. The Wardrobe

**AN: Every time you put me on story alert and don't review, Aslan kills a kitten. Do we really want to keep killing off kittens? They're already gone in Narnia! **

**Disclaimer—I don't own Susan or Narnia or anything. I actually own…Phillip. Bleaugh. What a dreadful concept. Oh I don't own the shopkeepers either. Wink wink.**

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I thought I was hallucinating.

But it was _there_. The wardrobe did not disintegrate from the store window. It looked just as I'd remembered it. I slowly stood, feeling as though I was moving through molasses.

I entered the shop, heading straight towards the wardrobe. I touched it, my fingers tracing the intricate designs on the front. It wasn't my imagination. This _was _the wardrobe. Our wardrobe. My eyes filled with tears as I thought of my siblings. This was our wardrobe.

I was about to open it, when I heard a voice ask, "Can I help you, miss?"

I turned my head and about had a heart attack. A large lion's face stared back at me.

"Aslan?" I gasped without thinking.

"Er—no," The voice replied and I realized it had a cockney accent. A mask. I glanced around the shop, realizing where I was. I was at some sort of odds and ends shop. The shopkeeper was wearing a large lion's mask, and I noticed another shopkeeper wearing a unicorn's mask.

"Name's Leo," The lion-masked shopkeeper said. "That wardrobe there tickle your fancy?"

"I—" I swallowed. "Where—where did you get it?"

"Estate sale," the unicorn-masked shopkeeper looked up from the counter. "Quite a while ago."

"I'll take it," I said immediately.

"You don't even know how much it is," Leo said puzzled.

"How much is it?" I asked.

"300 quid," Leo answered.

"I'll take it," I repeated.

"Extra 200 for delivery," Leo said suspiciously.

"I don't bloody care, I'll take it!" I shouted at him.

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The wardrobe didn't really fit inside my apartment. It got through the door after four hours of shoving and took up the majority of my living room. I didn't even bother trying to hoist it into my bedroom. Besides, I didn't really want it looming in my bedroom anyway. My flat wasn't at all large—I actually had to shove two of my couches together for the wardrobe to fit in the living room, and it still obscured the path to the door. I wasn't strong enough to push it anywhere else, and Leo already worked overtime to help me get it in my flat. I had tipped him heavily, though.

I made myself a cup of tea. The wardrobe seemed to refresh my energy. I actually took a bath and washed my hair for the first time in a week. I didn't touch any of my face powders or make-up though. I put on a fresh, clean dress and felt a lot better. I sat on the counter of my kitchen, which overlooked the living room. I drank my tea musingly.

There was a knock at the door.

Thinking it was Jack, I called cheerfully, "Come in!"

The door opened, and to my disappointment, it was not Jack but Phillip who walked through the door.

"Hi Susie, I just came by to…" The words died in his mouth as he stared in shock at the wardrobe. "What the bloody hell is this?"

"A wardrobe," I deadpanned.

"I can see that," He muttered. "What's it doing here?"

"I bought it," I deadpanned again, looking at him with mounting dislike. Was he really that thick?

"Isn't it kind of small here for a wardrobe?" Phillip snorted. "Why did you buy it?"

"It belonged to Professor Kirke," I said taking another sip of tea.

"Who?" He said confusedly. I felt another stab of annoyance.

"Professor Kirke," I said shortly. "Another close family friend. He died in the train accident."

Phillip had the grace to look ashamed. He shuffled uncomfortably.

"Was there something you wanted?" I sighed.

Phillip took in my new fresh appearance. "You look better."

I shrugged.

Phillip coughed.

I really wished he'd go away.

Staring at Phillip, I was reminded of something Peter had said to me a year ago, when I had brought some boy or another around for Christmas dinner.

"Seriously, Su," He'd said rolling his eyes. "You had over a thousand suitors once…and you chose _him_?"

I'd laughed mockingly and brushed away his Narnia nonsense but now, looking at Phillip, I could see Peter had a valid point.

"Do you feel up to going to dinner? Or we could visit Tilly, she's having a party tonight, she's been dying to see you. Or we could go out and have a few drinks," He grinned toothily.

Again I was reminded of Peter's words. Was that all I really did? Go to parties? Go out to eat? Get drunk? The shallowness of my life made my stomach turn. I really wished he'd stopped talking and went away.

"I don't think so," I said decidedly. "I'm going to stay in tonight."

Phillip looked disappointed and then brightened. I watched him warily.

"All right," He said agreeably. "I'll make dinner for you—how about I stay the night? It'd be like old times…"

"No," I snapped, immediately cottoning on to what he was suggesting.

"C'mon, Susie," He grabbed my arm and tried to kiss me. I ducked.

"We've hardly had anytime alone, Susie," He whined. "And I haven't stayed over in ages. It'll be private, romantic—" He took this moment to kiss my neck and try and grope me.

"Get _off_ me!" I bellowed slapping him hard across the face and driving my fist into his gut. He wheezed in pain.

"Susie—" He gasped.

"And _stop_ calling me Susie!" I snarled. I had a sudden urge to fire an arrow in his stupid ugly face. "It's Susan or Su! There are no in betweens!"

He gazed at me in astonishment.

"Get _out_," I growled.

He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'witch' or something worse, and stumbled out of my apartment.

XXXXX

I walked swiftly down the street, avoiding the peoples' accusing eyes. I hugged my coat tightly.

"Hey!"

I ignored the voice.

"Hey, I know you! Susan Pevensie!"

I glanced up fearfully. A rail-thin cabbie was smirking at me.

"Susan Pevensie!" He yelled. "The girl who forgot Narnia!"

I tried to reply but only a choking sound came out.

"Forgot Narnia, did she?" a woman who was selling golden apples sneered. Her face was pale white and frightening. "That's not all she did…Queen Susan the Gentle they called her? Queen Susan the Murderer more like—_she killed her family. She killed Narnia._"

"Hail Queen Susan the Murderer!" The cabbie bellowed. "Hail the girl who forgot Narnia!"

The voices started closing in on me. And then I awoke in a cold sweat.

I breathed heavily, shivering. My skin was clammy—the nightmares were getting worse.

"_Susan…_"

I froze. I flicked on the light of my lamp and stared around my room. Nothing. It was completely empty. All I saw were shadows flayed about my room. There was a stream of moonlight coming from the crack between the curtains—but there was no one there.

"_Su…_"

I buried my head in my pillow. I was imagining things. I was hearing voices. I was crazy. I was still in grieving. _I was not hearing my siblings' voices_.

"_Susan…the wardrobe…He's waiting, Susan…_"

A dry sob escaped my throat.

"_Su…_"

It was Lucy's voice, the final voice that moved me from my bed. I was half-certain I was insane. But if I could hear my family's voices again—I'd welcome insanity.

I pulled a dressing gown over my nightgown. I slowly went to my bedroom door, opened it, and walked the short hallway to the living room.

There it was. The wardrobe.

I had not once opened it since my urge to do so at the odd shop.

I swallowed. I should go back to bed. I should call Jack and tell him I was hearing voices. I should not do what I was going to do.

"_Susan…He's waiting…we're waiting for you, Susan._"

I lifted my hand towards the wardrobe and opened it. I hesitated and stepped inside. I didn't shut the wardrobe door behind me, because it's very foolish to shut oneself up in a wardrobe. I breathed deeply, feeling cold air whip around my face. I felt the pine branches caress my arms.

And then I took one step. And another.

XXXXX

Jack Lewis stood outside of a large, beautiful wardrobe in Susan Pevensie's flat. He was smoking a pipe. He stared thoughtfully at the wardrobe, noting that one of the doors was halfway open. He smiled, and took another puff.


	3. What Susan Found There

**AN: Sorry it's taken so long, and I realized a while ago that a lot of people seem to think my fic is over. It's not! Susan still has a very large adventure planned, my dears! Stick around, and thanks for the support!**

**Thank you to AlyenBlack2, VampiresWizardsCentaursOhmy, and missElena for reviewing! Please keep it up! **

**By the way, I'd like to thank the musical group Plumb for their song "In My Arms" which I listened to obsessively while writing this chapter. I suggest you guys do so too, the haunting tune fits it perfectly. :D**

**Disclaimer—Don't own nothing, but I'm sure C.S Lewis won't mind me borrowing his characters.**

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The snow crunched beneath my slippers. I took a deep breath of chilly, night air and stepped into a clearing. I saw pine trees surrounding me as my eyes adjusted to the inky blackness. I shivered, continuing to walk forward. Was I dreaming? The practicality of my mind wanted to think so, yet I clearly felt snowflakes pricking my nose and eyelashes. I swallowed. I glanced behind me, marking the grove where the wardrobe was with my eyes. I headed blindly into the forest. I searched frantically for the lamppost—wasn't I in Narnia?

I reached another clearing. I looked to the sky, but it was pitch black save for the snowflakes that began to fall more thickly. A cold wind whipped around my nightgown and I hugged my dressing gown more closely to me. I was freezing. I was hallucinating, I was dreaming—

"Are you cold, my daughter?"

I whipped around, trying to find the source of that voice…I knew that voice…

"Aslan?" I whispered.

Branches swayed and I saw Him. He walked towards me and I trembled. He was the most beautiful thing—the most terrifying. When I later tried to recall Him in my memory, I was unable to describe him accurately. He was as large as an elephant—no, a cart horse—no, that wasn't right either. But he was golden and magnificent—and I was afraid of him. Seeing Him once more made my chest clench up and my throat tighten. I shivered pathetically in front of him, and then collapsed to my knees.

"Are you cold, my daughter?" Aslan asked me, his voice warm as sunshine.

"Y-yes," I stammered. "W-where am I? Am I in Narnia? Where—where is Lucy and Peter and Edmund?"

His golden eyes were sad as He watched me. "They are not here. We are not in Narnia, dearheart. Narnia is gone."

"Gone?" I whispered again. "How—how can it be gone?"

"All worlds end," Aslan said sadly. He seemed so far away and yet so close to me. He almost stepped towards me, but I stiffened in fear and He did not try again.

"Please," I said, my face crumpling. "Please take me to my family. Where are they?"

"They are in my country," Aslan said softly. "They await you and send you their love."

"I want to go," I said still shuddering in the cold. "Please take me to them! I want to see them again! Please!"

Aslan said nothing, but shook his great mane. No. "Not yet, dearheart."

My face dropped to the ground. I clenched my fist, feeling anger curl around my heart.

"Speak your thoughts," Aslan said gently.

"How could you?" I hissed. I tilted my head towards him, angry tears forming in my eyes. "How could you?"

Aslan said nothing. For a moment I hated Him.

"What did they do?" I screamed. "What did Peter and Edmund and sweet little Lucy do to deserve this? They loved you! They never gave up on you, they _always_ went on and on about the Narnia idiocy! It was me that gave up! It was me that forgot you and Narnia and my family! WHY DIDN'T YOU TAKE ME INSTEAD?"

I couldn't stop the angry words from cutting though Aslan neither moved nor said anything. I couldn't read His expression.

"You said I could never come back to Narnia again," I said miserably. "Then you took away my family—left me alone. How could you do this?" I shook violently and the wind whipped around me ever more cruelly.

There was a long pause. Finally, Aslan said, "Are you cold, my daughter?"

"Yes," I wept. "I'm freezing!"

"Your cold is only of your own making. Come to me, dearheart, and warm yourself."

I shivered and tried to stand but failed. I dragged myself across the snow-covered forest floor to where Aslan sat on his haunches. I touched His mane—it was as soft as I remembered. I thought of Lucy for a moment and started to weep again, flinging myself around His neck, tears pouring down my cheek and into His mane. I looked up and saw that He was crying too, and His tears were falling on me and warming me. He lay down and I sobbed into His mane, tangling my fingers in it. I missed it. I missed all of it. All of the times I pretended to think all of Narnia as nonsense, I actually missed it so badly it hurt. I no longer had Narnia, I no longer had my family—all I had was Aslan.

"I'm sorry!" I sobbed. "I'm sorry. I'm such a fool, Aslan. A pathetic weak woman. Please Aslan, I'm so sorry…forgive me."

"You were forgiven long ago," Aslan said gently. I felt His warm breath on my forehead and plucked the courage to look at Him again.

His eyes were gentle and sad and full of love I didn't deserve. I tried not to blub again but was forced to wipe moisture from my eyes.

"And now," Aslan said presently. "Are you ready?"

"R-ready for what?" I stammered.

"For the task that I have called you here for," Aslan rumbled. "Queen Susan the Gentle, you are needed once more."

I started at the sound of my old title. I felt like a fraud. I was no queen, no worthy queen. Even when I ruled Narnia, I always stayed home during the battles. It was Lucy who was the brave one. I was the one who chose the path of least resistance—it was I who wanted to go back when they others wanted to go forward. I wasn't wise like Edmund, I wasn't bold like Peter—and I wasn't brave like Lucy.

"What do you want from me, Aslan?" I asked Him, but I was already planning on how to say no to him.

Aslan watched me—I swear, he knew exactly what I was thinking. "Susan, do you remember the gifts Father Christmas gave you so many years ago?"

"Er—" I thought. "He gave Peter a sword. And a shield. He gave me a bow and a quiver full of arrows and my horn. He gave Lucy a dagger and her cordial, of course."

"And do you remember the knife that the White Witch used upon me to end my life?" Aslan stared hard at me and I shuddered, recalling the cruel weapon.

"Yes," I answered shakily.

"It is these objects that you must recover. Narnia is frozen over, no more, but thieves have been able to break into the remnants and steal these artifacts. You are needed to retrieve these."

"By…by myself?" I said weakly. Aslan nodded.

I'd never gone on any of our adventures by myself. How could I do this? I needed Peter to lead the way, I needed Edmund's counsel, I needed Lucy's spirit—I couldn't do this on my own!

"Aslan, I c-can't," I stuttered. "I'm not—not strong enough! I was Queen Susan the Gentle…not the Magnificent, not the Just, not the Valiant…the Gentle." There was a trace of bitterness in my voice.

"Do you think gentility equals weakness, my daughter?" Aslan inquired.

I didn't know how to answer.

"I have a gift for you," Aslan said presently. "Look under that tree yonder."

I turned away for a moment and gasped. I saw a beautiful bow lying underneath with a quiver filled completely with arrows. I stood and walked over, touching the weapons lightly, feeling the wood.

"The arrows have been blessed with my breath," Aslan told me. "They are holy—and will always return to your quiver."

I lifted the quiver and placed it over my shoulder. I suddenly felt so right, so sure—this was where I belonged. I was meant to serve Aslan. I lifted the bow.

"Are you ready, Queen Susan?" Aslan asked me quietly. I nodded shakily. At His words, I noticed my nightgown and dressing robe had somehow turned into a dark blue Narnian gown—something I might've worn long ago.

"Then Queen Susan," Aslan said solemnly. "It is time we talked. Let us walk. Further up and further in." He turned and started to pad more deeply into the forest.

Taking a deep breath, I picked up my bow and followed.


	4. The Wodensguard Wair

**AN: This is by far the hardest fanfic I've ever written. I swear, every chapter leads to some kind of emotional breakdown for me. Anyways, I should warn you, this is where the interesting bits will happen. I don't know if it will be quite to everyone's taste or not, but I hope you'll still like it. Enjoy!**

**VampiresWizardsCentaursOhmy****- Thank you SO much! You have no idea how much that means to me because I spent the majority of the previous chapter revising and rewriting and revising all the Aslan scenes. It nearly killed me. I reread the entire Narnia series to try and get Him exactly write—definitely the toughest character I've ever written, so I'm SO glad you think I did him well! Yay!**

**Muse with Wings****- As was I. But Lewis himself said that Susan's story wasn't over, so I'm trying to pick up where he left off. The convo between Susan and Aslan took me days to write so I'm glad that people liked it!**

**Eavis****- No no, I could never give it up. I'm trying to update it weekly, but it's very hard, you understand. I've never put so much of my heart and soul into a fanfic, so each update is very exhausting. And Susan will meet many, many friends in her quest. I do hope you'll like where I go with it. **

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"There are a few things I must warn you, my daughter," Aslan told me as we walked through the forest.

"You will be going through several worlds to find these relics. I must insist that you do not interfere with the World Order unless it has already been interfered with. This means do not try and change events. They have already been predetermined. Do you understand me?"

I nodded, listening carefully.

"We are in Wodensguard now. You are to seek out your brother Peter's shield here."

I nodded again.

"Until you find an alternative way to go between worlds, you shall go the way you are most familiar."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Aslan seemed to smile. "How did you get here?"

"By wardrobe…" I said slowly.

"There is one more important thing," Aslan said suddenly stopping. "You must always remember this, Susan."

I listened, attentive.

"Remember that I am always with you, and will always be with you, to the very end of your days and further. You are never alone, dear heart."

My eyes pricked. He bent towards me and touched me with the tip of his tongue—the Lion's kiss. I closed my eyes and inhaled, feeling His breath surround me. When I opened them, he was gone.

I felt quite crestfallen, like a friend had moved away for good. I then turned and started boldly into the woods—much more boldly than I felt. But I felt so _right_ wearing my Narnian garb (that was the nice thing about Narnian clothes, they felt comfortable as well as looked lovely) and feeling the weight of my quiver on my shoulder. But there was one thing wrong. I dreadfully missed my horn—I would be the happiest when it was back in my arms.

There seemed no end to the forest. I stared about me. How many worlds has Aslan created? I wondered to myself. A vague memory of Professor Kirke relating the story of when he went to Narnia surfaced in my mind. He'd said something about a wood between worlds…

A branch snapped and I froze. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and an unpleasant shiver went down my spine. Something—was stalking me.

I reached for an arrow—and hesitated. The last time I'd shot my bow, I'd been fourteen. I'd been an excellent shot, of course—what if I wasn't anymore? My fingers trembled.

But my hesitation ruined me. In the space of two heartbeats, I was suddenly surrounded by wolves. They were black as tar, their white fangs glistening perversely against their dark coats.

I shuddered. I hated wolves. There were very few wolves that hadn't sided with the White Witch on my first trip to Narnia. A sudden flash of memory crossed my mind.

I was scrambling up a tree, trying to escape Maugrim's jaws. I had blown my horn desperately—the horn that would guarantee me help. I was trying very hard not to faint, but the combination of fear and adrenaline had made me dizzy. Peter had charged forth and slain Maugrim. I had hugged him, still tearful and frightened…

But Peter wasn't here to save me now.

The largest wolf snarled loudly, and its spine tensed. I recognized this—it was about to pounce. Fumbling, I tried to grab an arrow but it slipped through my grasp. The wolf tore through the air, directly towards me. Panicking, I cried out, holding up my hands.

But the wolf never made it. It was knocked abruptly aside by a different wolf, who was a strange dark reddish color. Then there was a flash of shadow and a young girl, no older than I, stood before me.

"Run!" She cried out, grabbing my wrist and charging into the forest.

I had no choice but to follow her. She dragged me through the forest, splashing through several streams in the process.

"We have to lose their scent," She said firmly, her hand never leaving my wrist. "Quickly!"

"What—who—" I stuttered but the girl ignored me. We ran through the night until finally, she stopped in a shaded grove. I went to my knees, gasping with exertion, a painful stitch in my side. The girl was apparently in much better shape than I. I watched her shivering. She had dark red, curly hair, almost too dark to be red. It reminded me of autumn. Her eyes were the color of blueberries. She let go of my arm and peered into the forest.

"Good," She said, sounding satisfied. "We've lost them."

"Who are—what is—" I stammered. I couldn't make my words clear.

"They are the _wair,_" She told me gravely. Her eyes flickered. "As am I."

"Then—" I wheezed, trying to catch my breath. "Why did you save me? Why did you stop that wolf—_wair_ from killing me?"

"They're not from my clan," She explained. "They are the Nightshade Clan. They're in our territory." She looked at me fully, and frowned.

"You're not from the village," She said slowly. "Who exactly are you?"

"My—my name is Susan," I said, still visibly shaken. "I'm a—traveler. I'm looking for something. Who are you?"

"Traveler Susan," The girl said quietly. "It is unfortunate you have come to this forest—truly, a cruelty worthy of Loki. My name is Asr—I am called Crimson Wind. I am one of the _wair_ of the Mountainside Clan."

I stared at her. "Unfortunate? You said—" My eyes narrowed. "Are you going to try to kill me?" My hand raised my bow ever so slightly.

Crimson Wind bit her lip. "I am not sure what to do with you," She admitted. "By the law of my people, I should bring you to the Alpha…"

I swiftly remembered what Aslan had told me. Do not interfere with the World Order. "I'd be obliged if you'd let me go," I said. "But if you must take me to your leader, then please do so. Don't get in trouble on my account."

Crimson Wind gave me a little smile. "I think it'll be all right. The Alpha is my mate." There was a pink tinge to her cheeks and I smiled back at her.

She led took my hand again and led me through the forest. After about forty-five minutes, we arrived at the base of a large mountain.

"My home," She breathed. "And now I must…" Her voice died and I looked at her confusedly. Apprehension appeared on her face and then I saw what she was looking at.

A beautiful young woman was walking towards us. Her hair was a beautiful silvery-blonde. Her eyes were a very cold gray and she walked with a haughty, prideful stride. Her eyes flashed when she saw me.

"Crimson Wind," She bit out. "What in Hel's name are you doing?"

"Ah, Hunter's Moon," Crimson Wind said sorrowfully and with a jolt another Narnian memory flashed through my mind. There had been a good wolf in our court—her name had been Huntress Moon, a name she'd chosen for herself. I smiled gratefully—this was surely a sign from Aslan that things would be all right.

"If I'm not mistaken," Hunter's Moon snarled and with a sinking feeling I felt that this Hunter's Moon was nothing like Huntress Moon. "That is a No-claw. And you've led her directly to our home."

"She was attacked," Crimson Wind said pleadingly. "I wanted to bring her to Night, ask his advice—"

Hunter's Moon snarled again, the noise frightening in the still night. "I should've known that just when I started to believe you had the Clan's interests at heart, you'd resort to _your_ people."

Crimson Wind bowed her head. I looked at the two of them confusedly. What did she mean? Didn't Crimson Wind say she was a _wair_?

"Just let me take her to Night," Crimson Wind begged. "I trust her. She's just a wayfaring traveler—and you yourself saw the Weaver's latest tapestry! Her visions are never wrong!"

Hunter's Moon turned away from us and started to stalk into a cave at the base of the mountain. "Just be sure you know where your loyalties lie, Crimson Wind."

XXXXX

I knew I was supposed to be looking for Peter's shield, but currently I was worried about staying alive. This world was frightening—people shifting into wolves, an eerily bright and round moon. Crimson Wind led me into the caves within the mountain and took me through winding passages. Finally, she arrived at what appeared to be a doorway. A deer hide hung as a makeshift door. She ducked within and I followed, not knowing what else to do.

I saw a cozy little room with a blazing fire. I wondered why the room wasn't filled with smoke and then saw the reason—there was a round hole on the ceiling—a primitive chimney. The room was filled with blankets and cushions. I stiffened—a black wolf lolled on one of the cushions—the same pitch black color of the wolves that attacked me.

"Night," Crimson Wind said gently.

The wolf sat up and looked at me curiously. There was another strange flash of shadow and a young man stood before us. His hair was dark brown and seemed perpetually messy. His eyes were very noticeable—a bright green. He greeted Crimson Wind with a kiss and then looked at me.

"Who's this, Red?" He asked, and I blinked and realized that 'Red' was Crimson Wind.

"She was attacked," Crimson Wind answered. "Remember the tapestry…she's a traveler, Night. If the Weaver's right, she won't be here long…can't she stay?"

"Red," He said warningly.

"Please, Night," Crimson Wind begged. She took his hands in hers.

Night sighed. "We'll talk to the Weaver. Go ahead and get her." Crimson Wind bobbed her head in thanks and disappeared out of the doorway.

I stared at Night and he stared at me.

"Are you the…the Alpha?" I asked.

Night nodded. "Only recently," He said quietly. "It should've been my sister. What's your name?"

"Susan," I replied. "Look, I don't mean to upset anyone. Your wife's…mate's right, I'm just a traveler. I'm searching for something."

Night's brow furrowed. "What are you searching for?"

"A shield," I said breathlessly. "A large shield, silver, with a red lion emblazoned on it. Have you seen it?"

Night shook his head. "We have no No-claw artifacts here. We fight with tooth and claw."

"Oh," I said disappointedly. There was a long pause.

"It was kind of your mate to save me," I said trying to be pleasant. Night heaved a sigh.

"I rather wish she hadn't," He grumbled. "It makes a load of trouble for the Pack. But I can't really blame her. She would never overlook a No-claw in trouble."

"Why is that?" I asked cautiously.

He glanced at me. "She was bitten, not born. She used to be a human."

"Oh," I said with realization. Hunter's Moon's words suddenly made sense to me. Apparently, these people were some type of werewolves--though I was fairly certain they were of a nobler breed than the ones we had in Narnia.

The deer hide door flapped open and Crimson Wind entered with a middle-aged woman besides her. The woman had the same eyes as Night and golden blonde hair. She looked at me intently.

"This is the Weaver," Crimson Wind said to me. "She is our Seer. She foresaw your coming."

I swallowed. The Weaver continued to stare at me intently.

"Well?" Night asked her impatiently. "What are we to do with her?"

The Weaver finally broke her gaze at me. "Give her food and drink and let her rest," She said decisively. "She is very tired and hungry. Am I correct, Queen Susan?" She suddenly shot at me.

"Y-yes," I said suddenly afraid. I hadn't told anyone that I was a queen.

"What do you mean qu—" Crimson Wind started to say but Night interrupted her.

"Fine, we'll do that. She can stay here for three nights. But I can keep her no longer than that." Night said firmly.

The three _wair _all looked at me, Night with suspicion, Crimson Wind with curiosity, and the Weaver with solemnity. I gulped and prayed to Aslan that I knew what I was doing.


	5. The BlueBearded Calormen

**AN: Aah, I missed my deadline. I'll be better next time, I promise.**

**VampiresWizardsCentarusOhMy****- I want to give you a hug, because I was literally on **_**tenterhooks**_** to see if people would like the direction I sent this in. Thank you! **

**And thank you to Sunshinefarah and anonymous for your reviews, I really appreciate them. By the way, the Wodensguard Wair are actually characters from an original story I wrote that I've yet to send off to the publishers. If you would like to read it (I'd really appreciate any comments or thoughts on it) PM or review me and I'd be happy to either e-mail it to you or post it on fictionpress, whichever you'd like. Thanks!**

**Disclaimer- I do not own Susan Pevensie but I **_**do **_**own Wodensguard and all the characters within that world.**

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Aslan was dead.

Lucy was crying—my own eyes were blurred with tears. His warmth was gone…nothing but a cold, dead corpse. Why hadn't He saved himself? I saw it in my eyes, the White Witch taking that cruel blade and stabbing it through His flesh.

Lucy was still sobbing. I tried to comfort her…

And then the White Witch was behind her. Lucy didn't see her, too busy focusing on her grief of losing Aslan. I tried to warn her but my voice was muted—I choked. The White Witch raised her arm and suddenly her blade rendered through my sister. Lucy's eyes widened in shock and pain…her mouth whispered one thing to me…

"W…why?"

She slumped to the floor. I screamed soundlessly. My voice returned to me and I cried out towards the White Witch.

"How could you?" I shrieked. "What have you done? What have you done?"

The White Witch gave me a chilling smile. "What have I done?" She purred holding up a mirror. "What have _you_ done?"

My chest froze up…within the mirror I saw myself…and the White Witch…

I was the White Witch.

I screamed again and with a jolt I awoke.

Crimson Wind was watching me, looking concerned. "Are you all right, wayfarer?"

"I'm fine," I stammered sitting up.

She eyed me. "You're very pale."

"I'm always pale," I murmured. "It comes with having dark hair." I shivered and wrapped a fur around me.

"It must've been a really awful nightmare," said Crimson Wind quietly.

I started and turned to look at her. "How did you—?"

"We're a bit empathetic," Crimson Wind explained. "Feeling each others' emotions is how we connect as a pack. I'm a little better at it than most, so I can feel yours really well."

I stared at the floor.

"I had nightmares for a while when I first got here," Crimson Wind said softly. I glanced at her gentle face.

"Night told me that you were...'bitten not born,'" I said slowly.

Crimson Wind nodded. "About two years ago," She clarified. "He did it to save my life. I was once…once called Asriel." There was a sadness in her eyes when she said her former name.

"Asriel," I repeated. "That's a lovely name. Do you mind if I call you that?"

She looked at me, a vague inkling of surprise on her features. "I haven't been called that in a long time. If it is your wish, Susan."

I leaned towards her. "Asriel, you said you were once human. Did you take anything with you when you became one of the wair? Anything human?"

Asriel's eyes flickered. "Just one thing. To comfort me."

My heart leapt. "Was it a shield? A silver shield with a bright red lion emblazoned on it?"

She looked puzzled. "A shield? No, no. It was a cloak, a red cloak my grandmother made me."

I looked away disappointedly and wished for Peter or Edmund. They would've known what to do, where to look. And Lucy would have comforted me.

"The village you came from," I tried again. "Do you think they might have it?"

Asriel bit her lip and shook her head. "I came from a very poor village, we didn't have anything from noblemen."

"Do you know of anyone who might have it?" I pleaded.

"I'm sorry, Susan. I grew up in a very poor village. I do not know to which lord's land we belonged to nor of anywhere beyond my village. Except of course these woods and mountain." Asriel explained. My heart sunk and I looked at the ground disappointedly.

Aslan must've made a mistake, I thought miserably. I can't do this on my own!

The makeshift door flapped open and I saw the Weaver and Night reenter the room. The Weaver held a roll of cloth in her hands.

"Lady Weaver, Night," Asriel greeted, standing.

The Weaver said nothing to her but headed straight towards me. "How are you feeling, Queen Susan?" She said penetratingly.

I swallowed. "Rest and food have done me well," I answered truthfully. I did not mention my nightmares.

"Good," The Weaver said crisply. "Then it is time to show you my tapestry." With a quick motion of her arms, she unrolled the tapestry before me.

The tapestry was a dark forest colored green. I let its beauty fill my gaze. The tapestry was no larger than a tablecloth with images of dozens of wolves. In the middle, stood a dark-haired girl drawing a bow. I swallowed. I was the girl.

"Remarkable," I breathed.

"What concerns me," the Weaver said briskly. "Are the pictures of the Nightshade Clan upon this. They've been pressing their luck with the boundaries for weeks now—but a clear outright attack?"

"We warred with the Nightshade Clan months ago," Night explained to me. "It was very brutal, but Hunter's Moon killed the Alpha. They backed off and we didn't hear from the again. But lately they've been crossing our borders, quietly attacking our patrols."

"We didn't know if the woman in the picture was fighting with the Nightshade Clan or us," Asriel added. "We prayed it was us—it seemed more likely. I can't imagine the Nightshade accepting help from a human."

XXXXXX

The rest of the day I explored the caves. Most of the wair seemed intent on using the day to sleep but I wasn't tired. I found a cliff jutting out near the top of the mountain and climbed it, feeling the wind whip my face.

A storm was approaching. I felt its energy tingle down my spine and smelled rain in the air. I looked out and could see it in the sky. It was dark and ominous and clashed dangerously with the colors of the sunset.

A thunderstorm? In midwinter? I'd never heard of such a thing. There was still snow on the ground; I could see the blanket of white in the forest. There was something unnatural about that storm.

"Susan!"

I turned quickly and saw Asriel race towards me. Her face was very white.

"The Nightshade Clan has attacked our hunting party!" She cried. "I have to go help them!"

Thunder rumbled behind me. "I'll go with you," I said already lifting my bow to my shoulder.

"No."

Asriel and I both turned to see Night looking at both of us. "Sorry," He said not sounding sorry at all. "But it's too dangerous. They know we're sheltering you here and they want you as their plunder. But we're not going to give you to them, so you stay here with Lady Weaver and Red and I shall fight."

"I can't let you risk your lives for me," I protested. "If it's my fault they're attacking you, all the more reason I should assist—"

"I've made my decision," Night cut me off. "You're to stay here. C'mon, Red. We have to help Hunter's Moon." There were two flickers of shadow and Night and Asriel became wolves. They bounded silently off the cliff, leaping down the mountain on larger rocks in an agile manner no human could've accomplished.

I walked back into the caves within the mountain, fretted for about ten minutes, and then made my decision. I grabbed my quiver of arrows, my bow, and started after the wair.

XXXXXX

Thunder rolled and lightning flashed, contrasting perversely with the crunch of the snow beneath my feet. I followed the wolf tracks as best as I could, keeping mark of where the mountain was. But it didn't take me long to find where the battle was—the snarls and roars of the wair.

I saw the battle and it terrified me. I wish I could say I was brave and suddenly gained Peter's boldness or Lucy's courage. I wish I could say I got Edmund's wisdom and immediately analyzed the fight coolly. But the truth was my chest froze over and I wanted to run.

I could distinguish the Mountainside Clan from the Nightshade Clan by the colors. The Nightshade wolves were pitch black and thicker in stature whereas the Mountainside Clan were neutral colors and leaner, except for Night who was the same midnight color. I saw him though, busy fighting two of the Nightshade Clan—his green eyes glowed in the twilight. Taking a deep breath, I rushed into the fray, pulling an arrow from my quiver.

I heard a yelp of pain and turned towards the source. A dark red wolf was being pinned to the ground by an enormous tar-colored wolf. I knew immediately from her crimson coloring that it was Asriel. His jaws were around her throat. In another moment, her neck would snap. I saw Night spot her and cry out, trying to get towards her but was blocked.

I didn't have time to think. I put the arrow to my bow and aimed. The cold fear of doubt assailed me—if I missed, I could kill Asriel. My fingers shook and my bow wobbled.

_Please, Aslan…_

An overwhelming sense of serenity flowed through me. My hands steadied and it felt as though I could see the world more clearly. The bow no longer felt heavy and clumsy in my arms. I knew this. This was me.

I raised the bow once more and fired a shot. The arrow struck the wair who immediately died. Asriel wriggled out from underneath him and stared at me astonished.

I now knew I had the ability to kill dozens of these wolves. I didn't want to however, so I fired to stun and wound. I knocked several aside with my bow as well, as it was made of a very solid wood. The Nightshade began retreating.

I made to follow them, fiery energy coursing through me. I tripped on one who wasn't as quick as the rest and fell to the side. I got up quickly, brushing the snow from my garment and then froze.

Hiding behind a tree, I saw a tall man watching fervently. My jaw dropped. I recognized his clothes. They were Calormen, I was sure of it. He wore a white turban with a single peacock plume at the front of it. He had a long curling beard dyed a bright blue.

"You!" I cried out stupidly.

The Calormen whisked his head around but he did not seemed as surprised to see me as I was to see him. He noticed my bow was slack in my hand and knocked it aside from me, wrapping thickly tanned hands around my throat.

"Where is it?" He hissed. "Where is the shield?"

I choked, trying to pry his fingers off of me. "How—are—you—here?" I wheezed.

"None of your concern, barbarian Queen," He snarled his grip tightening. My sight was fading…thing were going black.

There was a flash of red and black and the Calormen was knocked to the ground. I fell as well, gulping breaths of crisp winter air. Night and Asriel advanced towards the Calormen growling menacingly.

"We will meet again, barbarian Queen," The blue-bearded Calormen jeered and turned away from me, disappearing into the night.

XXXXX

"Are you sure you must go, Susan?" Asriel asked me worriedly. The battle had ended with a quick retreat from the Nightshade Clan. Night, Asriel, the Weaver and I were back at the foot of the Mountain. I didn't want to be a burden to them any longer. I felt guilty for all of it—and knew I had to leave.

"I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused," I said sincerely.

"Trouble?" Night said gravely. "You saved my mate's life. And you scared the Nightshade Clan away with your archery. Oden couldn't have sent better."

"I have a gift for you," the Weaver said to me. She handed me a black cloak. "I am also a seamstress. This cloak will keep you warm on the coldest night—and it will also show you things."

"Show me things?" I said confusedly.

"Yes," the Weaver said airily. "Goodbye, Queen Susan." She shifted into a sandy colored wolf and retreated into the caves. I looked at the cloak. It shimmered like ripples on a lake and for a moment I thought I saw the face of Aslan—but its face wasn't golden, it was dark. But it was gone when I tried to get a closer look. I shrugged and wrapped the cloak around me.

"Good bye," Asriel said tearfully hugging me. I embraced her and bowed to Night. I then set off into the forest.

XXXXXX

I followed the river for about a quarter of a mile when I saw a large, grizzled old bear—with a fishing pole.

I stared at him. He winked at me.

Not knowing what else to do, I went towards him.

"I've been waiting for you," the bear told me. "Can I offer you some sturgeon?"

"Er—no thank you," I said and I swear I could almost hear my ever practical cousin Eustace complain, 'isn't that a sea-going fish?'

"I believe you are searching for this?" the bear inquired reaching behind him. In his paws he held a shield—Peter's shield.

I gasped. "How did you—"

"I can promise you it won't be this easy next time," the bear told me. "Keep a close watch on it, missy. You aren't the only one after this."

"Who gave it to you?" I demanded.

"Thor."

"_Thor_?"

"I believe you know him as Aslan. Here he's Thor. And sometimes Oden. I was also told to tell you that there is a wardrobe in that fisherman's hut," He pointed towards a small little shack nearby.

I blinked. "A wardrobe?"

"He said you'd know what that'd mean."

I thought. Aslan had told me that I would leave the same way I came…the realization hit me. I was to travel by wardrobe. The ludicrousness of it nearly made me laugh—you had to appreciate Aslan's humor.

I thanked the talking bear and hoisted the shield on my back. I went into the hut, found the wardrobe, and started inside.


	6. Susan in Wonderland

**AN: Many apologies on my lack of updates. Now that it is summer, I will be updating weekly, possibly bi-weekly. Hope you enjoy this twist on a beloved series and how I incorporate EVERYTHING. If you haven't watched SyFy's Alice, you really should. And if you haven't read the original book, you really should. And if you haven't seen the Disney movie, you really should. And if you haven't read the SLG comics Wonderland, you really should.**

**VampiresWizardsCentaursOhMy****—Calormenes do, apparently. :D Thanks for reviewing.**

**Yoo-hoo ****—How do you mean 'in a series format'? Sorry if it was rushed, didn't mean to make it that way. There'll be between two to three chapters for each world, unless it's a quickie world I put in for kicks and giggles. Thanks for reviewing and thank you for letting me use elements from your story!**

**Disclaimer—I don't own the SyFy Alice, Disney's Alice, or Carroll's classics. Oh, I don't own Susan either.**

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The wardrobe shut behind me and I groped forward. My fingers touched the back and I realized the back of this wardrobe was also the door of the new wardrobe. Sighing, I pushed slightly and opened the door and took a step.

And promptly started falling.

I screamed. Then my descent began to slow—the cloak the Weaver gave me billowed out like a parachute and I began drifting lazily down.

I looked around. There were—pieces of furniture floating about. Chairs, wardrobes, Aslan knows what else.

"What the bloody—OH!" I cried in surprise and promptly landed on my head. Grimacing, I rubbed it and righted myself.

"I have a feeling I'm going to dislike this world," I sighed.

I seemed to be in some sort of alley. Pulling my hood up, I walked towards the light and came upon a sidewalk. I gasped in shock, pressing myself up against a building. This sidewalk was hundreds and hundreds of feet off the ground.

"What the—?" I said weakly. I looked about myself. I was surrounded by dozens of buildings, with sidewalks that were more like glorified ledges.

It was a rather good thing I wasn't afraid of heights. Then I considered. Bullocks. I was terrified of heights. I walked aimlessly, wondering what would happen next.

_I have the shield._ I thought to myself. _I suppose getting the sword is the next logical step._

I was wondering what I should do next, when a gray tabby emerged from the alley behind me. It sat down and looked at me straight in the eye.

I raised an eyebrow.

It grinned.

It literally grinned. Not a cat-smile, the corners of its mouth turned upwards into a crescent-shaped grin, a smile no cat should ever have. It was unnerving.

"What are you?" I asked nervously.

"If you're looking for the sword," The cat replied. "It's that way." He twitched a whisker.

"It is?" I said with surprise.

"What is?" He questioned.

"The sword," I said puzzled.

"What sword?" He purred.

"The sword you just—" I said frustrated but before I could continue he'd turned around and started bounding off.

"Hey!" I bellowed. The cat ignored me and continued to run. I chased after it, winding through alleys and various sidewalk-ledges, some of them quite precarious. We finally reached a rooftop with several strange flamingo vehicles.

The cat snickered and started fading into smoke. The smoke then turned into that eerie grin and started floating away.

"Wait!" I cried out. I glanced frantically around. My eyes fell on the flamingo vehicles. I walked over.

There was a tag attached to one. It read, _You can fly when you decide that you can._

I didn't know about flying, but I did once have a boyfriend who rode motorbikes. Unfortunately, his motorbike was not a pink flamingo motorbike. Still, how hard could it be?

I swung a leg over the flamingo and attempted to turn it away from the ledge. I didn't want to drive straight off but I figured that the ledges must lead downward somewhere.

Now. How to start the contraption.

I tentatively pressed the red button.

And promptly started screaming as the vehicle roared to life and plunged off the ledge. This was _not _a motorbike in the strictest sense of the word—this was some kind of flying flamingo machine and it was carrying me off into the clouds and out of the city. I shrieked at the top of my lungs and swerved far to the side, struggling to get a handle. I tried aiming downwards and the vehicle lowered slightly. At least I could see now. I was crossing a large body of water, perhaps a lake, and heading straight towards a forest. I made the mistake of glancing downwards and my belly flipped.

Ugh. I hated heights.

After about five minutes of aimlessly drifting closer to the coast, I finally started to get the hang of the machine. And naturally, the flamingo vehicle began to run out of gas. Or whatever it ran on. Needless to say, it started careening towards the water.

"BLOODY BISM!" I screamed as I was pitched into the lake. I kept a tight hold on my bow and thanked my lucky stars that Peter's shield was still strapped to my back. I kept my head and swam hard towards the coast. A pang hit my heart as I suddenly thought that Lucy was always the better swimmer.

I reached land sputtering and coughing. I took off my cloak and spread it across the sand so it would dry while taking a seat.

"Bullocks," I said to no one in particular. "I have a feeling I'm not going to like this world." I dug through the satchel Asriel had given me and took out a water-logged piece of bread. It tasted wretched but I forced it down anyway. I hadn't eaten in a while and I needed to keep up my strength.

I patted my cloak and felt that it was beginning to dry at least. I stood and put it on, gathering my things as I did so. I started into the forest, not really sure what I was looking for. I hadn't even figured out what sort of world I was in. A city with sidewalks as tall as skyscrapers and then an eerie forest just beyond their lake. Nothing was making sense.

"Actually," an annoyingly familiar voice intoned. "Things are making too much sense. Which is precisely the problem." I whipped around to see the cat's face dangling above me.

"There you are," I growled in frustration. "You mentioned Peter's sword. Where is it?"

"Recite," The cat said promptly.

"What?"

"Recite," It grinned that eerie smile.

"Recite what?" I said exasperated.

The cat chose not to answer this and fully materialized, still floating on air. It began to sing in a trilling voice.

"_Twas brillig, and the slithey toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe! All mimsy were the borogroves, and the momewraths—outgrabe!"_

"You're mad," I informed the cat. "I'm out of here." I began to walk further into the forest.

"_Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun the frumious Bandersnatch!"_

The cat was following me, now prancing from branch to branch. I tried to pay it no heed. There was something familiar about this poem—something that reminded me of a book I'd read when I was a child.

"_He took his Vorpal sword in hand: Long time the manxome foe he sought—so rested he by the Tumtum tree, and stood awhile in thought._"

I froze. I thought I heard a strange noise in the distance. I tried to focus on the sound but the cat's irritating chants kept distracting me.

"_And, as in uffish thought he stood, the Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, came whilffing through the Tulgey wood, and burbled as it came!_"

"Would you shut it?" I bellowed at the cat right as something loud came crashing through the trees.

"BURBLE!"

The cat completely forgotten, I stared in shock at the beast before me. It looked like—like—nothing I'd ever seen before. Like a dragon or a snake or a dinosaur or a combination of all, it was taller than most of the trees and had a chillingly serpentine neck. Its fangs dripped with saliva and it blew out of its mouth, making an eerie whiffling noise.

"_BURBLE_!" It roared at me. I did one any sensible person would do in that situation and ran for it. It galumphed after me, still making that ridiculous burbling noise.

"OY!" I heard a yell. "Over here!" I jerked my head to my right and saw a man with a tan jacket and hat gesturing wildly towards me.

"I'll draw him off!" He hollered at me and I noted with a slight tinge of relief that he had a cockney accent. "Follow Alice!" He charged in front of the beast yelling like a maniac. I was blinking at him in shock when a short brunette in a blue dress grabbed my arm.

"Hurry!" The girl tugged me along towards the thicker underbrush.

"But what about—" I said helplessly looking at the man who now had a monster on his heels.

"He'll be fine, we've dealt with the Jabberwock before!" The girl told me assuredly and we raced away.

After about ten minutes of running, we finally slowed. I glanced around me. We seemed to be in some sort of ruins. I panted slightly as an old man in a suit of armor clanked towards me.

"Merciful heavens! Who is this?" He exclaimed. His hair reminded me of stringy cotton.

"I don't know, we found her in the forest," The girl in the blue dress peered at me. "Are you from here or my world?"

I closed up. Here or her world? Apparently this world had interaction with other worlds. What did this mean about the world order here?

"All right, let's start with something simpler," The girl sighed. "What's your name?"

"Susan," I swallowed. "Who exactly—"

"Made it!" the man with the tan hat and jacket burst into the scene. "Blimey, the thing is getting more and more vicious. We better hope to hell that—"

"We are saved!" The old man in armor burst out. "The stars aligned and have brought us our hero!"

"Oh, he's not on that again," The man grumbled.

"Wait a second," I started suddenly very afraid I realized where exactly I was. "You're not—are you—?"

The girl glanced at the man who was currently spinning his hat on his finger. "I'm Alice," She said smiling tentatively. "And this Hatter."

"Bloody Bism," I groaned.


	7. The Vorpal Sword

**AN: I owe you all an apology. I promised more frequent updates and I totally was not able to fulfill that promise. There's been a lot of hard times for my family (I feel Susan and I would have a lot to talk about personally) so I haven't been able to give this fic the attention I would like. This coming semester will also be busy for me, but I will try to at least update monthly. Thanks for your patience!**

**ElvesWizardsCentaursOhMy****—Yeah, Susan doesn't deal well with the illogical. LOL Oz? I'm not sure, it could be if enough people want Oz. **

**Enjoylife1994****—Oh, thank you so much! I'm so happy you like my portrayals of the characters and I hope you enjoy more of it!**

**Schwann****—Thank you, that mixture is exactly what I was going for! This Alice and Hatter is from the SyFy miniseries Alice—but don't worry, more familiar portrayals of Alice and Hatter will be shown—that's the nice thing about Wonderland, I can do whatever the crap I want. :D I also don't think it's blasphemy at all—I absolutely love Labyrinth (and am planning on Susan to visit there, as a matter of fact…rather soon, in fact…possibly after Wonderland…;)) and am flattered that people can find comparisons between Susan and other girls thrown into magical situations.**

**And thank you to Eavis, Ray1, Kittenn1011, and CompletelyTwilightObessed for your kind reviews!**

**Disclaimer—I don't own anything, certainly not the characters or the plot or the poem.**

Wonderland. Of all the places I could end up, Aslan sent me to Wonderland. It's not that I didn't love the story when I was a little girl—it was one of Lucy's favorites—but I'd accepted it wholly as a story. Something between the pages of a book. I'd once commented to Peter that if I'd been Alice, I would've gone mad from the lack of the logical.

He'd gotten a gleam in his eye and said, "Maybe that's the whole point."

"Are you all right?" Alice asked, looking at me carefully.

"I'm fine," I sighed. I sized Alice up. "You're not quite how I imagined Alice. You're…older." Alice couldn't have been any older than I was.

I glanced at Hatter. He was pretty far from what I imagined too—for one thing, he was a lot more attractive.

Alice looked slightly abashed. "Well, I'm not—not _the_ Alice, the one in the book. I'm just—just Alice."

"But at the same time, you are," Hatter interjected fairly.

I looked blank.

Hatter sighed impatiently. "The thing about Wonderland, there's only one rule, and that rule is, 'Why not?' So in her world, she's not the Alice of legend but in our world, she is and she isn't."

I continued to look blank.

"Just like I'm not the Hatter in that story, but at the same time I am," He continued. "Wonderland is like a living entity—it changes to suit everyone's character. I got the hat a long time ago, I was given the Tea Shop, so that makes me the Hatter."

"So you're saying…" I said slowly. "That Alice, Hatter, Dormouse, the White Rabbit…these change over time?"

"You're looking at it all wrong," Alice replied. "Wonderland has no linear time. It just is. You sort of have to take it in stride. Well…you did. Not anymore."

"Wonderland's becoming too logical," Hatter said grimly. "It's developing—developing _rules_."

I didn't say what I wanted to say, which was that a crazy illogical universe developing set rules sounded like a fine idea, because Alice and Hatter looked so glum. The knight with clanking armor was humming blissfully to himself.

"And now," The knight said gleefully. "We have our hero, who will liberate the Vorpal sword from the Legendary Heroes, and cut down the Turk, who dares give Wonderland rules!"

"Turk?" I said sharply, immediately thinking of the blue-bearded Calormene.

Alice nodded. "He's the one doing all this, some Turkish lord that appeared out of nowhere. He's somehow leashed the Jabberwock under his control (which totally defies what a Jabberwock is) and with it has taken the royal family hostage."

"He has powers we could never dream of," The knight moaned. "He is making Wonderland linear, he is turning our rule of 'Why not?' into 'This is.' It's _dreadful_!"

"What he doesn't get, is that Wonderland can't exist like that," Alice closed her eyes. "It'll die—it'll just become what my world is now."

"And so you, my dear, our blessed savior, have come to—" The knight cried out.

"That's enough," Hatter burst out. "We're not waiting around for some pretend hero to wake up the Heroes of Legend, we're doing it ourselves! No offense," He added grudgingly to me.

I shrugged. "I'm not really here to save your world, I'm just looking for my brother's sword." As I spoke, a frown creased my features. The blue-bearded Calormene was messing with the World Order, something Aslan warned me specifically against, even if I didn't like the World Order.

Aslan also didn't tell me to 'rescue' every world I came to. In fact, He told me to avoid interfering with the world order. He gave me a specific mission: Find the lost treasures of Narnia.

"I'm sorry," I said finally. "I appreciate you saving me from that—that Jabberwock thing, but I have my own quest."

"You'll find," A dreadfully familiar sing-song voice said behind me. "That Aslan's quests, and others' quests, are intermingled."

"Oh Bism, it's you again," I groaned turning, expecting to see the gray tabby cat with the eerie smile. Sure enough, there he was but—he was changing. Changing into a much fatter cat, with purple and pink stripes. He had a strange atmosphere—it was hard to explain, even staring me in the face. It was a certain _wrongness_—like I was looking at something with completely different dimensions than my world.

Hatter gasped. "The Cheshire cat!"

"Cheshire?" I said confusedly, the name ringing a bell. I sighed, wishing I'd read more of the books I'd loved as a child recently. Jack was right, the _right sort of books_ really could help.

"Why do you look—different—from when I first saw you?" Alice asked bewildered.

I glanced at Alice, still thoroughly puzzled as to what Alice she was, and wondering if her encounter with this Cheshire cat had been the same in the book. Not that it made any difference, I couldn't for the life of me _remember_ anything about the book. Why, oh why did I waste so much valuable reading time reading silly Harlequin books and magazines?

"I am the Cheshire cat," The cat grinned. "But now you see me as the Cheshire Cat of Legend."

Hatter inhaled sharply. "The original—?"

"I was always the original," The Cheshire cat said smugly. "Just as I am your Cheshire cat, the future Cheshire cat, and the Cheshire cat."

"That makes no sense," I interjected.

The cat had somehow decapitated itself and was now balancing itself, one foot on it's eerily floating feline skull. "Can you stand on your head?" It asked me grinning.

"WOULD YOU KNOCK IT OFF?" I bellowed.

The Cheshire cat's head reattached itself. "No, YOU must knock it off!" It said gleefully. "Thou must knock off the Jabberwock's head! Thou must make the Vorpal blade go snicker snack! For thou art, the Hero of Legend!"

"I am not!" I shouted just as Hatter shouted, "She is not!" I glanced at him.

He shrugged. "I don't believe in destiny or fate, no offense, love. But the only way we're going to defeat the Turk is through our own hard work. We've got to get to the Heroes of Legend, find the Vorpal sword, and destroy the Jabberwock. That's our only chance."

"You look for the same thing," The Cheshire cat said slyly.

I flew at the cat. "Impossible!" I snapped. "I'm looking for a sword called Rhindon! They're looking for a—a Vorpal sword! What does Vorpal even mean?"

"Rhindon," The Cheshire cat said sweetly.

"ARGH!" I screamed in frustration. "THAT MAKES NO SENSE!"

"Stop screaming," Alice hissed. "You'll alert the Jabberwock!"

"Peter's sword _can't_ be the Vorpal sword!" I hissed back. "Narnia had that sword for over a thousand years, the time spans don't—"

"What did we just say about Wonderland time?" Hatter said testily. "It's not linear. Everything's reality here."

I fell to my knees, rubbing my temples furiously. "This is giving me a migraine," I sighed.

"So what does this mean?" Alice asked. "She goes with us to the tomb of the Legendary Heroes?"

"I guess it means," I said flatly. "I help you get this bloody sword, defeat the Jabberwock thereby defeating the Turk, set Wonderland right (in the loosest sense of the word 'right') take the sword and I'm on my way."

"Take the sword?" Hatter objected. "That's a Wonderland treasure—"

I flared up. "It was a Narnia treasure first! And don't give me that 'Wonderland isn't linear bullocks, it was blessed by Aslan himself!"

"Enough!" Alice held up her hands. "We'll sort this out. Right now, we just need to get to the tomb. It's about a three hour walk north-ish. Emphasis on the ish. Let's just get going, we can argue about it later."

Setting my jaw, I nodded wordlessly as we began to set forth.

XXXXXXX

I noticed the closer we got to the tombs, the less things made sense. Not that they did to begin with, but the illogical was definitely the prevailing factor the further we got. I saw birds that seemed to be umbrellas glowering at us from the trees. I saw strange duck-like quail birds that on closer inspection turned out to be squeaky toys. I saw a piglet in jester's clothes moseying about, apparently digging for truffles. A kindly gryphon gave Hatter directions.

_The sooner I get out of here, the better. _ I thought fervently. _It's like the entire populace is completely mad._

"We're here," Hatter said, with a touch of solemnity in his wry voice.

I expected a sacred place, but it certainly wasn't _my _idea of sacred. A million creatures that made no logical or practical sense (what kind of dog has a broom for a face? Are those dust bunnies moving?) were skittering about several stone monuments. They were almost like obelisks. I walked over to one, reading the writing carved in stone. The first said THE MARCH HARE. Another said THE MAD HATTER. Another said THE WHITE RABBIT.

I stepped away, shaking my head.

"So, now what?" I asked impatiently.

"We wake them up," Hatter said gruffly.

I frowned. "Wake them up? Aren't they dead?"

"Fair maiden, no!" The knight cried out. "They only sleep!"

"Go on then," Hatter nodded towards the knight. "Wake them up, then."

The knight stepped forward. I waited, expecting words of Latin or holiness to be spoken. But he proclaimed aloud,

"_How doth the little crocodile_

_improve his shining tail, _

_ And pour the waters from the Nile_

_ On every golden scale!_

_ How cheerfully he seems to grin,_

_ How neatly spreads his claws,_

_ And welcomes little fishes in_

_ With gently smiling jaws!"_

I wanted to scream, "THAT MAKES NO SENSE!" again, but I was distracted by a rumbling within the obelisks.


End file.
